


The Raw and Absolutely Unironic Inner Workings of Spades Slick: Uncut and Unrated

by gregariousProtagonist, oxfordRoulette



Category: Homestuck
Genre: Carapaces, Man Pain, Unironic Character Study
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-06-03
Updated: 2013-06-03
Packaged: 2017-12-13 20:01:55
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,631
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/828279
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/gregariousProtagonist/pseuds/gregariousProtagonist, https://archiveofourown.org/users/oxfordRoulette/pseuds/oxfordRoulette
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A broken clock is more comfort than a broken heart.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Raw and Absolutely Unironic Inner Workings of Spades Slick: Uncut and Unrated

**Author's Note:**

  * For [gregariousProtagonist](https://archiveofourown.org/users/gregariousProtagonist/gifts), [oxfordRoulette](https://archiveofourown.org/users/oxfordRoulette/gifts).



> http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=VEOOHVNItt8
> 
> A masterpiece in song writing.

_The broken clock is a comfort_  
 _It helps me sleep tonight_  
 _Maybe it can start tomorrow_  
 _From stealing all my time_

In this moment, it is my one prerogative to fall into dreams.

But how can I?

With these memories that haunt me. I see their faces, I hear their voices, but I will never see them again. 

I'm not as slick as I appear... I am just... Troubled... Depressed... Nothing makes me happy anymore. Every night when I imagine the clock striking 3 am (but it cannot! I have smashed all the clocks in my house, out of anger... Out of rage!) I will myself to cry. But I cannot cry. There are no tears left for me now.

_And I am here still waiting_  
 _Though I still have my doubts_  
 _I am damaged at best_  
 _Like you've already figured out_

I've been waiting for you. For what feels like eternity. Again, I cannot be certain how much time has passed, for I have broken all the clocks in my house, and all clocks I have come in contact with. But if it was necessary for me to guess how much time has passed since I have gazed at your beautiful, black, hard shell, I would guesstimate at least ten minutes. Ten, long, agonizingly hard minutes.

_I'm falling apart_  
 _I'm barley breathing_  
 _With a broken heart_  
 _That's still beating_

When you leave me, I feel like I'm falling apart, like I'm barely breathing. And my broken heart, it's still beating.

_In the pain_  
 _There is healing_  
 _In your name_  
 _I find meaning_

And yet, the pain makes me stronger. In fact, what doesn't kill me... makes me stronger. The more hate I feel for you, the more complete I feel. For is not the greatest thing I've ever learned is to hate and be heated? For I am like Iron Man in his suit and you are Killian the foul-hearted gentleman in Iron Man 3. Nothing makes me quote obscure pop culture references like you. They may not be obscure to you, but I never leave since I cannot see movies as I can never get the times straight. And I find it very difficult to view since I only have one eye, and cannot cope with this new fad in film viewing: 3D movies. 

Sometimes, when I'm alone, like now, and I feel myself waning, I whisper your name into the darkness. And it is though, again, my life has meaning.

Nothing tastes sweeter on my tongue... than your name.

_So I'm holding on_  
 _I'm holding on_  
 _I'm holding on_  
 _I'm barely holding on to you_

Sometimes, I feel like you aren't there when I'm holding you. But I cannot dwell on that, because holding on to you is the only reason I still hold on...

… To life...

_The broken locks were a warning_  
 _You got inside my head_  
 _I tried my best to be guarded_  
 _I'm an open book instead_

I think, sometimes. You're the only reason I haven't gone mad feral. When I am without you, for too long, I find myself foaming at the mouth, stab happy and empty inside. I never intended to depend this much on one other person. Yet, I would not change a thing about how I feel about you, how much I absolutely loathe you.

It's my hate for you that keeps me alive.

You can always see through me. I never have to be anyone else around you. And even though I know you hate me for who I am with every fiber of your insignificant being, I know that we were made for each other. 

You are the only one who stops the ticking in my head.

_And I still see your reflection_  
 _Inside of my eyes_  
 _That are looking for purpose_  
 _They're still looking for life_

Even though you are not here, I can see you when I close my eyes. O cruel fate! How long does eleven minutes stretch on when I am not beside you! And how short is eleven hours when I am next to you! It is but a wink, my friend, for I only possess one eye. Its neighboring socket is as damaged as my own, dark soul.

Though you are but one other soul; when you visit my dwelling, it becomes a full house. We're two of a kind, a pair as it were. As though our suits have been cut from the same cloth. I am a jack of all trades, and you are the diamond of my life.

(Nice use of metaphor.)

_I'm falling apart_  
 _I'm barely breathing_  
 _With a broken heart_  
 _That's still beating_

Despite your close proximity... physically. Emotionally... I feel that you are drifting. Though we have literally just spent approximately two hours lovemaking, for I do not know the official time, as again, there are no clocks in my household. I do not think you were actually present... You do not seem very into the actions of my body. 

However, I will pretend my heart is not yet broken, if it means yet but another approximate minute or two with you. Again, there are no working clocks in my home, so that was just a guesstimation.

Sometimes even a broken clock... can be a comfort.

_I'm hanging on another day_  
 _Just to see what you will throw my way_  
 _And I'm hanging on to the words you say_  
 _You said that I will be okay_

When I'm with you, I feel as though the lyrics of life sometimes skip ahead. As though sometimes, I think I am at one part of life's song, but really, I am to the bridge. And even though you make my life pass so quickly before my eye, for again, I have but one eye, and even though I feel your affections for me waning, I will keep hanging on. For tomorrow, when the green sun rises in the east, perhaps your love too will rise. Green... and... verdant... as though it was in the golden days, when our hate was new.

Sometimes, you say things that make me have hope. That maybe things will be okay. You do not specify how long things will take, but that is okay for I lack an internal clock just as much as I lack external ones. But again, I will stay by your side, for what could be an inordinate amount of time, for again, I do not have any clocks.

_Broken lights on the freeway_  
 _Left me here alone_  
 _I may have lost my way now_  
 _I haven't forgotten my way home_

It may have possibly been thirteen minutes now since you have left the slightly damp sheets of our lovemaking, and it was quite an arousing session if I do say so myself. It may have lasted the longest yet, but again, I have no real way of knowing this, for each clock is broken. But then again, you never complain about my lack of clocks or my lovemaking.

I recall our first date, it was a terrible first date, at a terrible chain restaurant... called Applebees. My hatred for Applebees knows no bounds. How dare their appetizers be so cheap, and their food be so delicious! How dare their clientele be so attractive, their staff so friendly, their health codes so non-violated. I was both flattered and aroused by your clear disregard for my feelings, O lover. So much, so I just left, I just left the Applebees... And I lost my way. 

And you, my one true hate, followed me, picked me up, and took me home. It turned out, I had not forgotten the way home, I had only momentarily blacked out, due to the overwhelming amount of blood that had rushed to my penis upon entering Applebees. Again, however, I have no real way of knowing how long my penis was engorged with blood in the state of an Appleboner, since I do not possess any concept of natural time.

_I'm falling apart_  
 _I'm barely breathing_  
 _With a broken heart_  
 _That's still beating_

It may have been as long as fifteen minutes now, since you have left my arm for the cold embrace of the shower stall. Or maybe it has been a year, months, days, or two seconds. Again, I have no real way of knowing since I do not possess any concept of time or any mechanical device from which to tell it. And I only possess but one eye for which to watch the passing of the seasons. 

Oh Droog, for it is you, and not Sn0wman, which I have been talking about. You add such sparkle to my dreary life, like the diamond for which you were named. Old sport, you are my own personal diamond. And I hope that you too, will become my own personal device from which I tell the time. For you do not count a year of your life by the seconds, but by the smells, tears, and cups of coffee. But I hope to count them by the wrinkles on our faces. But I have no idea how a carapace ages. Do we lose parts of our shell? Do we whither? Or do we merely fall over dead one day?

No matter what it is, I hope to discover it with you.

Sometimes I fear pledging the rest of my life to you. It may be an extremely short while, for I have no way of knowing how close to death I actually am. Perhaps that is why you've grown distant... Am I an old man, Droog? Am I an Old Sport?

Perhaps this is why I reminisce. Is that not all we can do? Beat on, boats against the current, borne back ceaselessly into the past.


End file.
